


Western Born

by Alexicon



Series: marvel works [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexicon/pseuds/Alexicon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An account, by Katherine Bishop, of her perspective of the beginning (c. 1895) of the Avengers, vigilante team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Western Born

**Author's Note:**

> Ever have those stories which come pouring out of you like helium from a holey balloon? This is one of those. I don't know where it came from.

“Barnes and Rogers?” The old man cackled, spraying spittle onto the table. I retracted my hands as gracefully as I know how. “That’s no good, missy, they’ll kill you as soon as look at you. They don’t take on jobs from rich little things like you.”

“That would be a shame,” I replied, ignoring the man’s laughter. “My money’s good. I don’t see why they wouldn’t want to be paid.” I laid a few coins on the bar. “Do you think you could get me into contact with them?”

The old bartender greedily eyed the coins glittering on the dirty wood. “They like as not won’t take your job,” he warned. I smiled graciously.

“I’m sure that’s my lookout, sir.”

“Aye,” he gave in. “I’ll do it, miss. Just don’t come crying to me if they don’t take kindly to your _request_.”

“I’ll remember not to, thank you,” I said dryly, and left the money on the bar. I had been told that this little bar, The Hangman’s Hood, was full of just the kind of people I’d need. I supposed the woman who told me this was right, of course, but I had been hoping to find Barnes and Rogers at the pub, rather than yet another middleman who might or might not know how to contact them. Miss Rushman had said it was a disreputable place, but I hadn’t quite expected this.

I returned to my rooms at the local inn and cursed myself for having forgotten to leave a card with the bartender as to how he might reach me. That was inexcusably stupid of me, to be sure; but, I supposed, the old man had been a long shot anyway. I’d return there in a day or so to confirm that no word had come of the two men and be on my way to hire someone else. These two had come with the highest of recommendations from Miss Rushman, but there were other men in the world who could help me take Clint Barton back from the brigands who had taken him.

I took breakfast in the kitchen the next morning, as the poor, overworked landlady was the only cook the establishment had, as well as the only serving staff. My meal was interrupted, however, by two tall, well-dressed men who looked to be only a few years older than my twenty years. The taller was blond and serious, the shorter brunet and smiling; both were clean-shaven and otherwise well-groomed.

“Heard you were looking for us,” the smiling man said. “Bartender at the Hangman’s Hood said you had a job.”

“The bartender said…,” I repeated, taken aback. “You can’t be Barnes and Rogers.”

“James Barnes, miss, and this is Steven Rogers, at your service,” introduced the man. He kissed my hand like a proper gentleman and Rogers followed suit, flashing a smile up at me.

“Naturally,” I replied automatically in my shock. These were not the ruffians I had imagined when I discovered what sort of place Miss Rushman had instructed me to visit. In fact, they seemed to be perfectly charming from what I had seen so far. “I am Katherine Bishop, and as you have said, I do indeed have a job for you. Do sit down, gentlemen.”

They did so, and I observed them as I gathered my thoughts. Barnes had an easy grace to his posture, hands folded in front of him; Rogers sat straighter than some of the most educated and mannered men I’d ever met and met my gaze evenly. I immediately got the sense that he, Rogers, was the one who would decide whether or not to take on my dilemma. I wondered why he hadn’t spoken yet-- it was probably an evaluation, I guessed, to see if I was being genuine about this. I couldn’t imagine any of the adventures or situations these men had experienced.

“I have an acquaintance who is in some trouble,” I began, then corrected, “A friend. Mister Clinton Barton, my friend, has been taken by a man named Loki and his gang. I was directed to hire you to retrieve him and deal with Loki’s gang in whichever manner you see fit. I believe he and his lieutenants all have considerable bounties to their names, in addition to the fee I shall pay you to return my friend to me.”

Barnes tapped his fingers against the table and frowned. “Two things. The fee?”

I named the sum, which was met by raised eyebrows and a whistle from Barnes.

“And I will pay to provide any tools or weaponry you may need, of course. The other thing you mentioned?”

“Who recommended that you hire us?” Rogers spoke for the first time. Barnes sat back and nodded to confirm that this was his question as well.

I glanced at them both curiously, wondering not for the first time how Miss Rushman had met these men she had described as being ‘the kind of men you’d want with you in a fight, no matter the stakes’.

“A Miss Natalie Rushman advised that I find you when I expressed my wish to get Clint back from Loki’s gang. She said that she would have joined us on this mission, but, ah, her exact words were ‘I have something I need to take care of first.’”

Barnes and Rogers exchanged a loaded gaze at that, seemingly understanding whatever message she had intended to pass on through that phrase. I couldn’t make heads nor tails of it, of course, but that was usually the way of conversations with Miss Rushman. She had a clever mind, and a clever tongue which she bent to her purpose like a smith with a hammer, or a musician with his instrument. One only understood her when she wished to be understood.

“We’ll take the job,” Rogers declared.

They arranged for us to meet later, outside the store at noon, and bade me farewell. I finished my breakfast hastily, despite it having gone cold, and hurried off to prepare my things for travel.

I would be leaving most of my dresses with the landlady, who had promised to send them to my father’s ranch if I forgot to come back for them. I had brought one of my bows, which was short enough to use on horseback, and a set of men’s clothes I typically used when I had to do some kind of physical work which would be made very inconvenient in a dress.

The only items I would need at the store were provisions, what supplies Barnes and Rogers thought we would need, and a saddle, because I didn’t think I could control my horse well enough on my sidesaddle while my hands were on my bow. Thankfully, at home I’d practiced with men’s saddles often enough to be sure of my ability to use them without any fuss.

I arrived at the store a little before noon, according to the clock tower on town hall. Barnes and Rogers sat on the porch as though they had been there for hours, nudging each other occasionally and pointing at what appeared to be random patches of grass. They spotted me quickly enough and jumped up to meet me on the stairs, both smiling at me pleasantly.

“Do you have an idea of what you’ll need to purchase?” I asked, hoping to make this excursion as short as possible. Barnes confirmed that they did and indicated a piece of paper he held in his hand which he gave to me.

It was a logical list, mostly consisting of food, ammunition, and medical supplies. I checked to ensure that they were aware I would be coming with him; Barnes raised his eyebrows, but only asked for the list back so that he could change the amounts to include the change of plan. He also added the saddle at my request. Rogers barely reacted past giving Barnes an amused look.

We left the next morning. Loki and his gang had been seen a few days’ ride west of here, according to the news and the sheriff’s office, so west we rode.

It was not an unpleasant journey, other than the looming knowledge that my friend was still in captivity. I was curious as to the contents of the oddly circular satchel Rogers carried upon his back, but I was too polite to ask and he did not volunteer the information.

We located Loki’s gang fairly easily, as they were a large group not much inclined to stealth.

I will say this not expecting to be believed: Loki, while an odd character with many abilities unexplainable outside of magic, still appeared human. Many of his ‘men’, however, did not appear to be anything of the sort. They had strange coloring, and bizarre limbs and appendages which convinced me that these were not mere men in costume; these were something other, something truly alien to our eyes. I had not seen creatures such as this anywhere outside of some of the most fantastic novels I had read, and I said as much. Barnes and Rogers replied grimly that they had witnessed creatures similar to this (but not the same, they noted) previously, which astounded me.

We devised a plan of attack, which was simple: Early in the morning, I would enter with Rogers to retrieve Clint, as I knew his face, and Barnes would cover us with his rifle. It was this simple, Barnes explained, because one needed to leave some flexibility for when unexpected surprises occurred, as they usually do. I chose not to inform him that I often went on small adventures with Clint, for whom any plan more complicated than ‘do this and shoot things with your bow’ was a very well-thought-out plan indeed, and probably too complicated, in fact.

It appeared that the circular object in the satchel on Rogers’ back happened to be a metal shield, painted dark blue to eliminate the sun’s reflection off its surface. He also carried a Colt Peacemaker tucked into a holster on his side. In addition to his rifle, Barnes was carrying a number of knives, which he made more easily accessible by ensuring that his clothing was tight enough for the hilts to stand out or tied back so the cloth would not get in the way.

We entered easily enough. Clint, as Barnes had spotted through a pair of binoculars, was entrapped in a tall, unguarded pen with three or four other hostages, all of whom appeared to be asleep. We roused Clint first, then Rogers went on to awaken the others as he blinked blearily up at me.

“Kate!” he exclaimed, ignoring my attempts to hush him. “Katie-Kate. How do you do, Miss Kate? You look very _brown_ today.”

“Have you been hit on the head?” I hissed, darting a panicked look at the pen’s gate. There was no one coming as far as I could see, but I couldn’t tell if that was because no one was there or the men (or creatures) had decided to be sneaky. Either way, Clint should have known better than to speak so loudly in this situation.

“Maybe,” Clint admitted, apparently answering whether or not his head had been injured. “Probably. It’s all…fuzzy. Was Natasha here?”

“I don’t know who Natasha is,” I said, rather than inform him he may have been hallucinating. I heaved him up in a strong pull and allowed him to list against my shoulder as I shifted my bow to support him with one arm.

“Let’s go,” Rogers whispered, having gotten all of the other prisoners on their feet.

“Wait,” said Clint, squinting at his fellow captives. “That one’s not--”

The one he indicated then took a breath and screamed, “INTRUDERS! THEY ARE HERE! BEWARE!” An older man struck him, knocking him flat, but it was too late. Our presence had been announced.

Rogers directed the ones who could walk to carry the weaker men to safety and stayed behind to shield me and Clint from the bullets now being fired toward us.

“How are you doing?” Rogers asked Clint, who waved his hand in the air.

“Not quite strong enough to draw yet, or I’d steal Katie’s bow,” he replied, for which I squeezed at his ribs with the arm around him. “Ow, hey! But I could shoot a pistol, I think. And stand, Kate, you can let me go now.”

I eyed him dubiously to ensure that this was not a lie meant to free me so that I could actually use my bow, but let him go when I saw his earnest expression. He was unsteady for a moment, but held his ground and held his hand out.

“Anyone have a spare gun?”

Rogers handed over his revolver readily and emptied his pockets of what spare ammunition he had.

“Isn’t that your only weapon?” I asked, not having seen any others when we were preparing for our rescue mission. He grinned at me.

“Don’t worry about me. I have my shield, remember,” Rogers said uncaringly.

Clint laughed. “I’m not sure what a shield is going to do against these beings, but I like your style, kid.”

That meant, of course, that he had already decided we would be friends with this man. I wondered what he would think of Barnes.

There was a cry further into the camp, which we pursued. There were other people struggling against the odd gray creatures: a blond, bearded man floating with a hammer (of all the weapons to have) in his hand; a red-haired woman with pistols and shocking agility; a great, hulking, green creature, whom I would have thought to be allied to Loki but for the clear glee it took at dismembering them; and a man in a suit of armor with some sort of strange ray bursting from his hands and feet, which appeared to both be a weapon and a propulsion device.

I might have stopped to stare all day, were it not for Rogers hurling his shield into the fight like a Greek discus, saving the armored man from a creature attacking from behind, and then going on to strike a good dozen of the creatures before returning to Rogers’ hand. In fact, I gaped at Rogers for a long moment before Clint’s shots rang out and reminded me that there were more important things to do than exclaim over the oddities seen today.

At first I had some trouble, as the creatures had some sort of natural armor protecting them, but after determining that I needed to aim for the joints and the other places which the armor did not cover, I took out a great number of the creatures, reclaiming my arrows as I went.

They outnumbered us to a ridiculous degree, but at one point, I noticed for the first time that my opponents were fewer. When I looked around, half of our allies were missing (Rogers, Clint, and the flying blond man were all still fighting near me, and Barnes had joined in the melee at some point), so I redoubled my efforts to eliminate the creatures.

We dispatched them successfully after what seemed to be simultaneously an age of endless fighting and only a second of battle and looked around to ensure we had gotten all of them. We had, so this was the time to question the bearded blond some.

“Were you _flying_?” was the first question from Barnes, which was met with a boisterous laugh and a clap to the shoulder. Barnes tottered a little.

“I was!” he replied cheerily. “I am Thor Odinson. You are worthy allies! You fought very well.”

We introduced ourselves, hand shaken all around. He had a firm grip as he shook my hand; I was not entirely certain he realized I was a woman.

Clint squinted at him. “Didn’t I shoot you one time?”

“You have both good aim and a good memory, my friend,” Mister Odinson said. I exchanged a confused look with Barnes as Rogers collected his shield from the corpse of one of our enemies.

“There were others fighting alongside us, were there not?” I asked. “Where did they go?”

“This way, I think,” Rogers said, pointing past a copse of trees.

“Is no one else curious about the flying?” Barnes murmured as we followed the path that Rogers had indicated.

I assured him that I was indeed curious, but that I also wondered about the other members of the group who had been fighting with Odinson when we arrived at the battle. The answers would hopefully be more readily given when the group was united.

The hulking being was no longer with the woman and the armored man when we found them; however, they had been joined by a tired-looking man in a tattered coat and a manacled man fitting the description on Loki Laufeyson’s wanted posters.

It was the woman who first drew my attention. She had a familiar face, and although it took me a moment to place it, I did recognize it as belonging to Miss Rushman, despite her now having short red hair rather than the long blonde locks I had seen last.

“Natasha!” Clint cried, delighted. It seemed Miss Rushman was Natasha, as she turned her head at that and smiled in reply. She called herself Natasha Romanov this time, and Barnes and Rogers indicated that they had met her previously in a marvelous adventure supposedly too unbelievable to recount, explaining how she knew to recommend their services to me.

The rumpled man was a scientist named Robert Bruce Banner (although he preferred to be called Bruce) and the armored man was Anthony Stark, a man I had met before at one of my father’s balls. I inquired after the large green being and was informed that it was in fact an alternate form which Doctor Banner sometimes took, akin to Mister Hyde from Mister Robert Louis Stevenson’s work.

Mister Odinson’s ability to fly was not explained, as he then took hold of Loki and flew off into the distance.

“I suppose we’re not getting the bounty for him,” Rogers remarked after a moment of stunned silence.

“Your fee remains, and I will pay it,” I assured.

Barnes looked halfway into apoplexy. “Can anyone talk about the flying? You all saw that, right?”

“He’s a god,” Miss Rushman-- apologies, Miss _Romanov_ \-- said. “Or he thinks he is. Have any of you heard of Thor, the Norse god of thunder?”

“That’s not him,” I said, startled. “It can’t be. Those are myths, they don’t really exist.”

“That seemed to be fairly conclusive proof that they exist in some way, I have to say,” commented Mister Stark, who had raised the visor on his armor. I did make a face at his pronouncement, to my chagrin.

“But… Loki?” I asked. I had concentrated more on the Greeks and the Romans in pagan mythologies, but I recalled the name Loki from one of the selections I had read.

“His brother,” said Doctor Banner. “I know, I was surprised too.”

“Huh,” Clint said. “That’s different. Hey, Natasha, did you hit me on the head earlier? I seem to remember that happening.”

Miss Romanov did not look even a little apologetic. “It was necessary.”

He accepted that. I shook my head in disbelief.

“This is a fascinating conversation, I’m sure, but did all of you miss the part where Thor said that more like those beings would attack our world now? This is only the beginning, and we have to be ready for what comes next,” Stark said.

“I did miss that,” Rogers replied. It seemed we had missed Mister Odinson explaining about the creatures we had faced, which was unfortunate. “What do you think we can do about it?”

“I think we can protect people,” said Stark. “I think we can save people from these things they don’t even know about. And I think you can join us, _Captain_ Rogers.” He laughed a little at Rogers’ surprised face. “That’s right, I recognize you. Or should I say, your shield. My father created that shield, you realize. I’ve studied the schematics and I’ve studied you. You’re not as anonymous as you think you are.”

“I didn’t think I was anonymous, just _hidden_ ,” returned Rogers. “I felt I had that right, after saving Bucky from what your organization did to him.”

“Who’s Bucky?” asked Clint, under Stark’s “That wasn’t my organization, that was enemy action under the guise of the organization I hadn’t taken over yet.”

“ _I’m_ Bucky,” Barnes said, looking unimpressed with everything. “Steve, you know you’re going to agree. Just get it over with and let him know where he can telegram you. I want to get paid and go home.”

“All right,” Rogers gave in. “I’ll do it. You will remember, though, that my loyalty is not to you and other things may take precedence over your requests.”

Barnes grinned tiredly. “He means me, I take precedence. Even though in all likelihood I will be joining him on these ventures. Give him your information so we can eat something, I’m starving.”

“Actually, I don’t need any information. I built a few small devices you may use to contact any of the other devices and I’ll give you one when we get into town. It’s basically a portable telegram, but more complicated--”

“That’ll be great, thanks,” Barnes interrupted. He met my eyes. “Miss Bishop, Mister Barton, please join us for our meal.”

It didn’t seem by his tone that we had much of a choice, but I would have been willing if we had. I had no wish to hear more of Stark entreating promise of aid from Rogers, and I doubted Clint desired to hear it, either.

Miss Romanov joined us as we returned to our belongings, and it was to her I addressed the question which suddenly occurred to me: “What will happen with the bodies of the creatures we faced? I don’t think they should be left there for anyone to find.”

“Stark has people for that. It’ll be like the creatures were never there,” she replied.

Barnes looked disturbed. “Do you ever get worried that Stark and his people will do that to you?”

“I take comfort in the fact that I can and have taken down all of the members of his agency.” She smiled beatifically. “It works wonders to ease that little concern.”

Rogers laughed cheerfully. “It’s good to see you again, Natasha,” he said.

“And you,” Miss Romanov replied. “I’m glad you helped Katherine retrieve Clint.”

“Hmm?” said Clint, perking up from where he’d been eyeing my bow covetously.

“You may all just call me Kate,” I told them tiredly, handing the bow and quiver over to Clint. “I do prefer it.” This sparked a conversation within our group of people insisting to be called by our Christian names or a variation of such.

Rogers, it seemed, preferred to be called Steve, and Miss Romanov allowed me to call her Natasha. Barnes was nicknamed Bucky after his middle name, as he had been named after the fifteenth president, James Buchanan (I shuddered to think that there might be a child named after our current president, Grover Cleveland; especially because he had served a term in office before the previous president. That was not a kind name to have). Clint introduced himself as well.

“What were you doing while we were fighting?” Clint asked Natasha.

She donned an expression meant to be mysterious, although her lips twitched into a smile, and answered, “That’s a secret, Clint.”

“We can keep secrets,” he wheedled. “Remember Budapest?”

“Not quite like you do,” she said, and relented. “We were to get hold of the staff and cube Loki was using to bring those creatures in and keep them out of his possession. Thor took the cube when he left.”

“Wait, the cube?” Steve repeated. “That’s not the cube I think you’re talking about.”

“It is.”

“Tell me, had they dug me out of the shipwreck yet before finding that thing or did they wait until they after had unearthed my apparent corpse before searching for one of the worst weapons used against us?” asked Steve bitterly. “I assume it was the Shield Agency which found it, of course, because they were the ones to find me and they don’t exactly share information easily.”

“The cube was found before you were,” Natasha said. “It was how they knew to keep looking in that area, actually.”

“I would rather have stayed in the ice than have that thing be found again,” Steve pronounced, sharp.

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “That would have been unpleasant for me,” he commented lightly, flexing his left hand unobtrusively under the gloves he wore. Steve made a wounded face and grabbed Bucky’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He apologized in a low murmur, squeezing his hand tightly. Clint and I exchanged bemused expressions.

I tried not to pay attention to the “It’s all right, sweetheart. I just, I like to think I would’ve hated it if you stayed under the ice any longer,” murmured between them, as that seemed private.

“Does Stark have enough of those devices for all of us?” I directed toward Natasha. “He’s a fool if he thinks the rest of us aren’t going to help when things like this happen.”

“Your father wouldn’t be pleased,” Clint interrupted before Natasha could respond.

I made an irritated sound and pursed my lips. “I’m not certain he would notice, in fact. It doesn’t matter, anyway. You’ll take me in if he disinherits me, right?”

He confirmed that he would and I turned back to Natasha expectantly.

“I’m sure he has enough,” she said with a small smile. “He probably planned for us all to join him in his team against future creatures such as the ones we fought today, and made enough devices for us all to have. I don’t believe he would turn down aid against such an unknown enemy.”

Steve looked uncomfortable. “You’re a little young for this sort of thing, though, Kate. If something happened to you, your family would be devastated.”

“How old were you?” I asked curiously. Bucky coughed and attempted to hide an obvious smile behind his right hand.

“Uh,” Steve stalled. “That’s irrelevant.” Clint cackled and Natasha bit her lip.

“That’s a wonderful argument, but I think I’ll continue to fight strange creatures who threaten the whole of humanity, sorry,” I replied with a winning smile in his direction.

Steve did not have an adequate response for that, which made Bucky outright laugh.

“Oh, thanks for the support, Buck,” Steve said with a wry twist to his mouth. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Bucky’s face turned abruptly solemn. “Always on your side, pal,” he said, then grinned mischievously. “Doesn’t mean I always have to take you seriously. I don’t want to know what kind of crazy things you’d do if I took you seriously all the time.”

Steve made a face which only highlighted the fact that he couldn’t be more than a few years older than me.

We went into town after we ate and milled about the town square aimlessly until the rumpled Doctor Banner spotted us and motioned for us all to follow him.

Stark did indeed have enough devices for all of us. He nearly gave us each an extra one-- “for our friends,” he said-- but Clint convinced Stark that of us all, he knew the most people who would be able to help in our fights, so he was given five in addition to the one he would keep. We made our farewells and prepared for the journey back to Steve and Bucky’s current hometown.

Natasha remained with us for the entirety of the trip, but disappeared as soon as we got into town. Clint, Bucky, and Steve all assured me that this was a common event and that she would be perfectly safe on her own. They had the look of men who had learned this fact through much difficulty, which was what truly convinced me of their argument.

I paid their fee easily, and added a little extra to recompense the lack of any bounties. Steve almost tried to turn down the money, but Bucky and I convinced him that it would be better for them to take it. Clint appeared astonished that I had paid such an amount for him, which forced me to explain that I genuinely liked him and thought he was worth that price or even more. Bucky joked that if he was worth more, perhaps they should have asked for more, but backed down quickly when I asked if he wanted to be hired as a bodyguard for Clint. Bucky, it seemed, did not wish to be a bodyguard.

All in all, it was a rather unexciting start (excluding the otherworldly creatures, which were exciting enough for anyone) to one of the most valued things in my life. The Avengers were born a little tired, and a little wayward, but they were born then, just after the battle-- or even during it, forged through fire. Mister Odinson returned often to join in our fights, and was a valuable source of information as well as an excellent fighter. More joined our group over the years, but this is where it started.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lexiconallie.tumblr.com)!


End file.
